Three Old Men
by Bleedred
Summary: A request for Selenity0011 on LJ for the HetaChallenge 2011 Advent Challenge    Russia, Netherlands and America decide to go have some drinks.


Three Old Men

by Bleedred (Toilinthefields)

Last updated: December 27th, 2011

Characters: Russia, America, Netherlands  
><span>Pairings:<span> None  
><span>Rating:<span> Everybody  
><span>Genre:<span> Friendship, Humor  
><span>Warnings:<span> Russia, America, Netherlands, Christmas traditions, booze, drugs, Dutch language, American accents, vandalism, swearing

Summary: Russia, Netherlands and America decide to go have some drinks.

A request for Selenity0011 on the HetaChallenge 2011 Advent Challenge

Drinks at a bar in Amsterdam seemed like a great idea. It was a nice way to start off December, three guys drinking together at a bar. Everyone would be drunk and happy, right? Russia hoped so as he walked into the place they'd all agreed to meet at. He had to bat at the smoke in the air to try and see where he was going but after coughing his way along, he found Netherlands and America, just like he'd expected. This was going to be great! They were going get all tipsy and be friends, he just knew it! Sure, they'd all had their differences in the past, but the holidays were coming up and this was a nice way to start spreading good cheer around.

He sat down next to Netherlands, who was smoking something that quite smell like a cigarette, and across from America who already had a few empty beer mugs in front of him. Oh... Russia frowned a bit, figuring he must have been somewhat late.

"I am sor-"

"Nah, dude, don't worry it! 'S totally cool, bro!" America gave him a weird sign with his thumb up... as though it were a good thing. Russia blinked at him curiously, wondering if... America actually knew what that gesture meant. He tried not to feel insulted as Netherlands casually directed his attention to a bottle of premium imported vodka that was conveniently on their table. Mood instantly lifted, Russia smiled as he popped the top on the bottle. Ah, liquid happiness.

Soon, talk of this, that and the other thing began and carried on for a few hours. Eventually though... holiday traditions came up. In and of itself, that wasn't really a bad topic, was it? No, of course not, everyone liked sharing their traditions with everybody else.

Russia started off talking about Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost who lived in the town of Veliky Ustyug. It seemed logical enough, since he figured Netherlands and America both had figures like this in their cultures, someone who brought presents to children during the dark winter in celebration. However, he'd hardly gotten past the first few sentences when America just _had_ pipe up and say something.

"Dude, like, my version of Santa is waaaay better than that!" he slurred, slamming his beer mug excitedly on the table before laughing obnoxiously. "He's less like Gandalf and waaaay more like a jolly old grandfather who eats cookies all of the time! Besides living at the North Pole is waaaay better than living in some fucking Podunk little town in fucking Russia!"

Russia blinked a bit, not nearly as intoxicated as America clearly was. He glanced over at Netherlands who'd been mostly quiet the entire evening. He merely eyed them indifferently as he alternated between puffing on whatever that was he was smoking and drinking his lager. Russia sighed, letting the infant emotion of rage mix and mellow with insulted indignation, because sauteing it with the high-quality vodka he took another swallow of. You see... this was why he and America didn't... hang out so much.

"Ded Moroz has daughter, Snow Maiden. Santa does not haff family, besites his wife ant all off those elf thinks..." he said, trying to remain calm as he pondered the number of ways he could kill America without getting any blood on poor, bystanding Netherlands.

America pointed an accusing finger at him. "At least Santa isn't some single parent who can't keep a marriage! Santa's been married happily for centuries, dude! Your stupid frost geezer couldn't do that, huh? HUH?"

At some point after that, with more alcohol being consumed at an alarming rate, except by Netherlands (who remained oddly calm the entire time except for the fact that he kept eating pretzels while watching his companions argue), Russia remembered America launching himself across the table in his direction... and then didn't remember anything else after that.

He woke up, what he could only assume was at least a few hours later, on the floor with a broken bottle in his hand and a massive headache. The table was broken with what looked like an unconscious America underneath it and something written in the wall above their booth in... was that mustard?

"_Sinterklaas is superieur_"

This lead Russia to wonder... just which one of them had broken the table over America's head.


End file.
